


We Exist Together

by otshineon (alexscarlet)



Series: Like You Imagined [3]
Category: SHINee, Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baking, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Cute, Dirty Jokes, Domestic Fluff, Endearments, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kyuline, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Memories, Morning Cuddles, Nostalgia, Rural Escapades, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Ugly Sweaters, Winter, i warned you this is too cute, literally every fic i write is overflowing with endearments im giving myself toothache, minkey are my otp forever please love them, that's right gardening, this is just the fluffiest thing ok i adore this au please love it too??, unusually for me this is actually angst free, wait no kibum's homophobic parents welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexscarlet/pseuds/otshineon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it’s compulsory to drink five mugs of tea every day, the countryside smells of autumn and Kibum is worried, but he doesn’t need to be. </p><p>
  <em>“Now can we stop being so silly and go and say hi?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Exist Together

**We Exist Together**

 

“Minho…”

 

“It’s too late now.” Minho sings as he climbs out of the car. Kibum stares at his cute butt mournfully. Before he can climb in the back of the car and maybe hunker down in the foot space and pretend he’s not here, Minho has jogged around the front and is opening the passenger door for him. “Come on! I don’t know why you’re so worried.”

 

Kibum stops gnawing on his thumb just long enough to mutter darkly, “I’m meeting your family for the first time. Tell me again why I shouldn’t worry.” He refuses to meet Minho’s eyes and that’s what finally forces Minho to take his concerns seriously. He doesn’t know why Kibum is so scared of meeting his folks, he really doesn’t, because Kibum is so lovely and Minho’s family don’t have a reputation for being cannibals, so?

 

“Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to worry about, really. I’ve already told my mum all about you, and even though she thinks I’m kinda crazy for moving in with somebody I’ve only known for a month, she also thinks you sound lovely-“

 

“Only because of what you’ve told her! Minho, you’re _biased_ , of course she’s going to think I’m nice if she only hears what you have to say, you think I’m ten times better than I really am-“

 

Minho groans and tries not to brain himself on the car frame because they’ve had this conversation before, in the middle of Kibum’s living room carpet, surrounded by half-eaten pizza, halfway through unpacking Minho’s stuff.

 

“Babe, please.” He says gently, taking Kibum’s hands so he’ll stop picking his clothes apart and pulling him carefully out of the car. “I know you’re not that great, but I still love you. I love you so much and even if my mum thinks you’re kind of strange - I’m not saying you’re _not_ strange, because you are, but even if she thinks you’re totally whack - she will still try and like you for my sake.” Minho grins confidently. “But it won’t come to that because I’ve seen you turn on the charm before and it’s deadly.”

 

Kibum smiles reluctantly, tiny dimples appearing in his cheeks. “It is.” He admits.

 

“Now can we stop being so silly and go and say hi?”

 

Kibum pauses then nods. Minho goes to move away and take their suitcases from the boot, but Kibum grabs onto his forearms and tugs him back, tilting his head up expectantly. The autumn sunlight outlines the sharp curves of his face and runs smoothly over Kibum’s beautiful skin. Summer has given him these tiny freckles that only Minho knows about because only Minho has permission to get so close. When Minho still isn’t kissing him, too caught up in his admiration, Kibum cracks an eye open and somehow manages a one-eyed bitch glare.

 

It’s hard to kiss properly when grinning so much, but Minho gives it his best shot.

 

After carrying their luggage down the path - there’s not too much as they’re only staying for a long weekend - Minho rings the doorbell then grabs Kibum’s hand before he can think to bolt off and cower behind one of the apple trees in the backyard.

 

Kibum goes on his tiptoes and whispers in Minho’s ear, “If they hate me, you’re going to ride me when we get home.”

 

Minho is bright red and spluttering when his mother throws the door open and practically flies at him.

 

“So glad you’ve come home! How long has it been? Ooh, you’re useless, never coming back to see us.” She fusses when she pulls back, hands smushing Minho’s cheeks affectionately. “And you must be Kibum?”

 

Kibum needn’t have worried. As always, the second he’s actually in the situation he is anxious about, Kibum’s fantastic social skills kick in. He grins at Minho’s mum, his eyes crinkling, and says, “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Choi.”

 

And then Minho’s mum is engulfing him in her signature, smothering hug and smiling, “You too, love.” When she lets go, she grabs Kibum’s suitcase and yells, “MR CHOI. YOUR GOOD FOR NOTHING SON IS HOME.”

 

“I object to tha-Dad!” Kibum hangs back as the two men share a half-hug and pat each other’s back. It’s all very masculine, and Mr Choi’s muddy wellingtons and scruffy clothes immediately put Kibum on guard. He’s never had the best experiences with men like this, feels ridiculously self-conscious about his lilac French braid and turquoise scarf and pretty city fashion, but it’s Minho’s dad so he forces himself to calm down.

 

Minho knows, though, always hyper-aware of Kibum on normal occasions but particularly so now, and he reaches back with a reassuring smile, hand between Kibum’s shoulder blades. Kibum relaxes into the familiar warmth.

 

“Kibum, come and meet my Dad. Dad, this is my boyfriend, Kibum.”

 

It still thrills Kibum to hear ‘boyfriend’, especially in Minho’s low, loving voice, and Minho feels ridiculously proud of the pink dusting Kibum’s high cheekbones.

 

“Nice to finally meet you, son. We’ve heard lots about you.”

 

“Minho won’t shut up about you.” Mrs Choi adds, winking at her aforementioned, embarrassed child.

 

“Nothing too bad, I hope.” Kibum laughs, and then, “Minho, you never told me you have a dog!”

 

Before anyone can stop him, Kibum pounces on the Labrador and coos at it, as most people would coo at a baby, whilst roughly ruffling the dog’s fur, patting it enthusiastically.

 

Minho laughs weakly, “Oops?”

 

“I like him.” His mum whispers in his ear as she passes on her way upstairs with their bags.

 

A little later, after they finally drag Kibum away from the dog and they’ve had the mandatory cup of tea, Minho’s dad asks, “How do you feel about wood-wogging?”

 

Kibum splutters into his second cuppa. “Wood-what?” His face is such a picture that nobody can explain because they’re all laughing too hard. Kibum smiles at the sound, still confused.

 

“Put on your wellies, lads.” He claps Kibum on the shoulder on his way out the back door and Kibum mouths ‘help’ at Minho.

 

“Put on your wellies, Kibum, you heard the man.” Kibum checks that nobody is watching before sticking his tongue out and flipping Minho the bird.

 

It’s not until they’re out the door, marching up through the gorgeous oranges and pale yellows of the autumn leaves, that Minho takes pity. “It’s when we go and steal wood for the fire.”

 

“Steal?” Kibum waggles his eyebrows. “That’s something this city-boy can get behind.”

 

Minho laughs, “We just take it off the common and the tops of the farmers’ fields.”

 

Kibum wiggles his fingers in the tough gloves Minho threw at him and eyes the hacksaw in Minho’s hands. “You should carry weapons more often, it’s very _sexy_.”

 

“If you wanted a real weapon, you’d take the chainsaw.” Minho’s dad comments, and Kibum promptly decides to blend in with the red foliage lining the pathway. Minho can’t stop laughing.

 

After ‘wogging’ the wood - which mostly consists of Kibum trying to stop huge logs from wobbling by sitting on them as Minho saws them into smaller pieces - they dump it all in the woodpile out back then head into the warmth of the house for some more tea.

 

“I think it’s compulsory to drink about five mugs a day.” Minho whispers, bumping shoulders with Kibum as they huddle next to each other beside the scruffy kitchen table.

 

“D’you think if I ask for coffee tomorrow morning they’ll accuse me of witchcraft and execute me on the spot?” Kibum’s nose wrinkles and Minho kisses it.

 

“So, lovebirds!” Mrs Choi swoops into her simultaneously organised and shambolic kitchen. “Who wants to help me bake some cookies?”

 

The question is aimed at Kibum, but he doesn’t know that. His mum is fully aware that Minho is utterly helpless when it comes to feeding himself, so it’s probably her testing Kibum, just a little bit.

 

Even so, she looks pleasantly surprised when Kibum jumps up with an enthusiastic, “I haven’t baked in ages. If I wouldn’t get under your feet?” As Kibum goes on tiptoe, stretching up for the flour in the top cabinet, she gives Minho two thumbs up behind his back. When Kibum turns around, he scoffs, “Minho, why are you bashing your head against the table?”

 

As they set about mixing the cookie dough and talking in that easy, cosy manner people do when baking treats together, Minho leans back in his chair, close to the familiar heat of the AGA and lets himself watch Kibum.

 

He is so glad, so proud, really, for the welcome his family have offered Kibum. As he watches his mum cheekily pat Kibum’s bottom when she nips round him to rummage around for the chocolate chips, Kibum laughing easily, he tries not to think about Kibum’s family, but it’s a little hard not to.

 

It was only after Kibum had yelled ‘DARLING’ as he entered the flat whilst Minho’s mum was on the phone, leading to her demanding they come and visit, that they even began to discuss their families, and even then Kibum was decidedly more discreet about his.

 

To be honest, it really surprised Minho, who had, unfortunately stereotypically, assumed Kibum’s parents would be accepting because of how androgynously Kibum presented.

 

“Love.”

 

Kibum had looked up from where he’d been towelling himself off after an evening shower and met Minho’s gaze through the mirror. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

 

“You know how I…I talk to my parents a lot.” Kibum’s nakedness had made it even more visible when his muscles tensed. “It’s just that I don’t hear much about yours.” Minho had continued, smiling and attempting to keep the tone light.

 

Kibum had made a towel-turban then left the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “They’re not that interesting.” Both knew exactly what Minho had been alluding to.

 

Jinki told Minho he had never seen Kibum’s parents in the same room, but Kibum assured him they loved each other, just preferred to live separately. They hardly called and Kibum only rarely phoned his mother; though when he did, the phone calls usually lasted for ages, reassuring Minho that Kibum had a good relationship with one parent at least.

 

Minho had met them once, when Kibum’s mother been in town for a business meeting and his father had a business lunch, and they’d swung round Kibum’s place for a whistle-stop visit and Minho had been there.

 

Kibum and his parents had kissed, and hugged, and Kibum’s mother had complimented his clothes and his dad had expressed some vague sort of pride in Kibum’s career advancement and didn’t seem to give Kibum’s long hair a second glance, and then Kibum had introduced Minho as ‘a really good friend’ and they’d asked when Kibum would find himself a nice girl and that had been that, really.

 

“Minho?” Kibum laughs, waving his hand in front of Minho’s face.

 

“Oh, hi.” He cups Kibum’s jaw with his large hands and pulls him down gently for a snog, momentarily forgetting where they are. His mother’s “ooh look what we have here!” quickly reminds him and it’s a testimony for how relaxed Kibum is that he just giggles and smacks Minho’s hands away lightly.

 

They’re just sitting down to dinner when the doorbell rings.

 

“Grab that for me, will you, Min?” His mum asks, and there’s a glint in her eye that makes him sure she knows exactly who’s at the door.

 

Sure enough, he throws the door open to find his childhood friend stood there in huge green woolly jumper, washed out jeans and wellingtons. He loves his mum. “Kyuhyun!”

 

“Minho!” Kyuhyun yells happily, doing a stupid little dad-dance on the porch in celebration. Minho laughs and drags him inside, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Glad to see you haven’t changed much then, still as disgustingly embarrassing.”

 

Kyuhyun’s deep laugh booms right down Minho’s ear and, as they return to the kitchen - where Kyuhyun greets Mrs Choi with “Mum!” as she’s already setting him a place at the table, and Kibum’s curiosity is only diverted by the dog sneaking food from him, and his dad can’t stop grinning at them all proudly - Minho feels so happy he might burst.

 

After stuffing themselves with the tiny little cookies Kibum and Mrs Choi made, dipping them in milk and hot chocolate, Minho feels both stuffed and torn. He doesn’t want to leave Kibum alone, but he hasn’t seen Kyuhyun in ages. His dilemna must be evident, because his mum and dad quickly rope Kibum into a conversation about life in the city and how Minho fits in with it all, and Kibum winks at him as the pair pass by on their way out to the back garden. God, Minho loves them all.

 

When Minho has waved Kyuhyun off from the bottom of the front garden, his friend dancing off down the lane like the true nerd he is, he heads back to the kitchen. Before he interrupts, Minho hovers silently in the doorway. His dad heads off to bed, quietly patting Minho’s shoulder on the way out, but Minho’s mum and Kibum seem fully engrossed in conversation. When he realises Kibum has somehow forced his mother to talk about Minho’s childhood - though he doesn’t suppose his mother was very hard to convince, really - he’s tempted to step in, but something persuades him not to.

 

Maybe it’s the way his mum has this soft, kind look on her face, creases by the corners of her eyes from laughing, the one she reserves for people she likes. Maybe it’s how Kibum is all curled up under one of Minho’s jumpers, the red knit one, with his own blue check shirt poking out the top, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, his eyes wide and bright with attention, giggling in all the right places, smirking wickedly when some particularly embarrassing detail of Minho’s past rears its ugly head.

 

That burning joy from earlier melts into deep, comforting contentment.

 

“D’you remember that, Min?” His mother asks, and Minho is coaxed from his place in the doorframe and settles into the chair beside Kibum.

 

“Yeah, mum.” He rolls his eyes and Kibum smiles so much his eyes disappear.

 

Mrs Choi stands and hooks all the abandoned mugs with her fingers, dumping them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning. “I’ll leave you to it. And just remember, you’re not alone in the house and the walls are rather thin.”

 

Minho groans and buries his head in his hands. “Night mum.”

 

“Goodnight Mrs Choi.” Kibum says, bright red and giggly - Minho thinks he might have snuck some alcohol into that tea.

 

“Goodnight, dear.” She flicks off the main lights on her way out.

 

They listen to her footsteps up the stairs and creaking through the ceiling, the house shifting to re-accommodate its inhabitants. Minho still has his forehead resting on his crossed arms atop the kitchen table, and Kibum slumps into him.

 

After a long moment, quiet save for the ticking of the grandfather clock out in the hall, Kibum comments softly, “Your family are nice.”

 

Minho smiles into the tabletop. “Thanks. They like you a lot.” Even though he can’t see Kibum’s reaction, he knows him well enough, knows that he’ll be blushing and pleased. “And so they should.” He sits upright and Kibum’s already there, waiting for his lips. In the dimly lit kitchen, they kiss with increasing intensity, mouths opening and tongues licking against one another, Minho’s hands hot against Kibum’s pink cheeks, Kibum’s quick fingers tangling in Minho’s short hair.

 

“I love you.” Kibum gasps when they part for breath. Minho smiles, a secret little smile meant only for himself as he strokes Kibum’s cheekbones with his thumbs.

 

The next morning, Minho wakes up to find Kibum rummaging through his drawers.

 

“Bummie?” Kibum jumps so much he bashes his knee against the open drawer, extracting bitter curses from his lips. “What are you doing?”

 

“Um?” The early morning sunlight is seeping through the yellow curtains, bathing the room in glorious orange light and Minho just wants cuddles. He murmurs this angrily into the pillows and the next thing he knows he has a giggling Kibum wriggling back into bed beside him. “Sorry, I just wanted to steal one of your old jumpers.”

 

Minho struggles to think back to his old jumpers and instantly regrets it. They were _hideous_. “Why?”

 

Kibum pouts and snuggles closer. “Because I was cold and I don’t have enough country clothes and they’re funny and you were asleep so I didn’t want to wake you for cuddles but-“

 

“Shh.” Minho says, wrapping both arms around Kibum’s head and effectively making the other shut up.

 

Kibum sucks a lovebite into his bicep and Minho laughs, sleep-deep and growly. Even after he’s stopped hugging Kibum’s head, Kibum nuzzles his freezing nose into Minho’s arm, blinking at the dark pink bruise. “Pretty.”

 

“Nah. You’re the pretty one.” Kibum rolls his eyes and they both fall asleep again.

 

Later, after they’ve bumped hips as they brush their teeth in Minho’s tiny old bathroom, Kibum gets stuck in one of Minho’s ugly, weather-beaten sweaters.

 

He flaps blindly around Minho’s childhood bedroom, his little hands with their pink nail polish sticking out the top, until Minho contains his laughter long enough to save him.

 

“We’re going for a walk.” Minho’s fingers slot between Kibum’s like they were made to fit, his hand nearly engulfing Kibum’s smaller one. Kibum untangles them just long enough to sneak the last cookies into a bag, slipping them into the pocket of the coat he’s borrowed, for later. For eating on the bench with the best view over the rolling hills and beautiful countryside, Kibum you just have to see it, come on! Minho doesn’t see; too busy kissing his mother on the temple and cheekily pointing out the answer to his father’s crossword.

 

Before they leave, Minho takes his mother’s stripy scarf from the hook and loops it around Kibum’s neck.

 

The door clicks behind them, closing on the cheery goodbyes and Kibum slips his arm through Minho’s. They bump hips as they walk, until they get too hot and bothered, the exercise chasing away the late autumn chill. Then they race each other up the red-shaded paths Minho knows like the back of his hand, Kibum only winning if he cheats by throwing leaves at Minho or shoving him into the trees.

 

The cold air dries his throat and Minho hangs back, content to linger in the pleasant weather, watching as Kibum skips ahead, kicking at the piles of fallen leaves. The dappled sunlight filtering through the diminishing foliage plays through Kibum’s lilac hair; he’d left it untied and with each bound, it trembles and tumbles over Kibum’s shoulder blades, down his back.

 

Kibum bursts out of the wood’s edge into the sunlight at the top of the field, and he spins around with his arms flung out, Minho’s grey raincoat falling half-off his shoulders, multicoloured scarf trailing down his chest, face upturned to the sun. He laughs and Minho laughs even though he doesn’t know what they’re laughing at.

 

“Which way?” Kibum returns to his side, threading their fingers together again.

 

“This way.” Minho says, and pulls him along through the rain damp forest, tripping over tree roots, Kibum squeezing his hand tightly whenever he nearly falls.

 

Kibum gasps. “You weren’t joking.” He chuckles, eyes wide with wonder, drinking in the orange spectrum of countryside, the sunlight splashing over the patchwork fields, the shadows of the clouds blown along by the autumnal winds.

 

There’s the bench Minho remembers. He shows Kibum where he scratched his initials in the wood beside his high school sweetheart’s and Kibum demands they make another heart with theirs.

 

“So everyone knows who you ended up with.”

 

Minho likes the finality. Because it’s cold when they’re not moving, Kibum sits on Minho’s lap and Minho hugs him close, buries his freezing nose into Kibum’s neck. Kibum hits him until he stops.

 

“Here.” Kibum says, wrapping the scarf around Minho’s neck and rearranging the collar of Minho’s jacket so there’s no way for the occasional bluster of wind to make him cold.

 

Minho can feel himself grinning like an idiot when Kibum makes a drum roll on his thighs then magicks up the cookies, smiling so much Kibum hits him again, in between feeding him.

 

“Shall we head back?” Kibum asks, after a while, but even as he says it, his hands slip under Minho’s jacket and around his shoulders, huddling closer.

 

Later, Kibum will sit on the patio, cocooned in tartan blankets and cuddling a hot mug of tea as he thanks Minho for the view as Minho sits on his knees whilst weeding the garden.

 

Mrs Choi will laugh and pat Minho’s bottom and Minho will wonder if he can bury himself in the flowerbed and escape the horrors of boyfriend and mother united. Mr Choi will leave his home study and, eventually, even Kibum will be pulling on gloves and helping out, until the sun will set and night seeps in and the parents set about cooking dinner and Minho takes Kibum up to his bedroom.

 

They will kiss on the bed, hands under clothes, little frustrated moans into each other’s skin, giggling over their insatiability and how glad they are they’re only staying for a weekend, until Mrs Choi knocks loudly and clears her throat and walks in to find them all over each other, laughing and laughing.

 

After dinner, Minho will take Kibum onto the rooftop; where he first tried smoking - with a pack of cigarettes Kyuhyun stole from his super-cool cousin Changmin - and where he kissed a girl and where he first admitted to himself, in tears, that he prefers boys.

 

But for now, they push each other back to Minho’s old home, Kibum grumbling about his boots getting muddy and Minho mocking him mercilessly. Every time they shove each other away they come back together again, like a rubber band springing back to form, like two magnets, lacing fingers together, Kibum’s head against Minho’s shoulder.

 

(Later, Kibum will kiss Minho’s lips and tell him that now he can say he kissed his _most favourite boyfriend ever_ on the rooftop too. And Minho will wonder if getting engaged after only a month is going too fast.)

**Author's Note:**

> please please comment if you liked it!! wishing you all an amazing day.


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